Sometimes everything feels a little overwhelming… especially in the midst of a pandemic.
Sometimes I wonder if I can take any more pain. If I can handle one more thing on top of my already fragile psyche. I feel the weight of the world. Lately I’ve been angry at God for allowing all this pain into my life and into the lives of those I love. He seems cruel and distant, or at least unable to stop all the pain.
Unable to stop all the madness.
The more my heart gets broken, the more I have to cling to Him. I’m tired of suffering alone, pretending like things are not so bad as they really are. There is much suffering in my heart and in the world, and I can’t deny it anymore. I can’t deny that my heart is broken and this world is broken and it is not my home.
That my true home is not here, but with Him.
I want to make my home here. I want to put my hope into my circumstances, into my future here on earth.
It’s ironic that just after counseling my friend about anxiety, I find myself in my own state of fear. But I allow Him to draw me close in it, instead of staying stuck in my mind. I allow Him to comfort and reassure me that my treasures are not here, and that there is nothing of value that I can truly lose that will not be resurrected and redeemed in the end.
I keep settling for less, keep hoping that this world will become heaven, but it is not and it will never be. Maybe a pandemic is what is needed to make that abundantly clear. Our hope lies beyond this temporary life, this temporary world. Our hope and our future is in Him, and Him alone.
It’s such a hard and painful lesson, but there is so much release in the surrender. There is freedom.
rhythms of grace 